At the start of his life, Damian did not know who Thomas and Martha Wayne were.
They were footnotes, at best, to the legends of the bat that the League still whispered about to this day and the same stories that Talia would tell him with a sweeter tone, about a boy just like him who was loved in all the right ways and it still could not save him from his own fate.
It's why Bruce is a little surprised when Damian came to the manor and first saw their portrait, immediately lighting up.
Bruce stilled immediately, preparing himself for the drop of the hat, that this boy, his son, who was made from a stolen piece of Bruce, also had imitations of his grandparents used in the training that ripped his childhood to pieces.
But Damian's expression goes soft, inexplicably so.
He turned first to Thomas' image, poised and imposing man, even with his tender smile. The boy said:
"When I have dreams, or what I think are dreams, it's in the hospital that Mother says she studied in when she was young, and an older gentleman always holding my hand and listening to me talk about my training and interests in medicine and sweets."
Then Damian turned to the image of Martha, demure and breath-takingly beautiful. His fondness shifts to borderline gratitude.
"When I have nightmares, I often find a woman running up to me and enveloping me in her arms. She does not look like Mother but her touch feels safe and familiar anyways. When that happens, I don't wake up screaming at all."
Bruce later messages Talia to ask about this.
She responds with no words, only sending him one of few preserved childish drawings made by Damian at a littler age.
Damian, Talia, a black shadow figure labelled 'Batman' — all hand-in-hand. Ra's in the corner of the paper on Talia's side.
And above Damian, two figures in the youthful likeness of Thomas and Martha Wayne labelled appropriately:
